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Over There Oh, I used to go a-courting over there (2x) Oh I used to go a-courting The girls they came a-sporting And they had music without noting over there. Oh, I asked her if she loved me over there (2x) Oh, I asked her if she loved me Said she thought she was above me And that she bumped above me over there. Oh, her father's name is Moses, over there, Oh, her father's name is Moses, over there, Oh, her father's name is Moses And their cheeks as red as roses And they've got the flattest noses over there. The potatoes they grow small, over there, The potatoes they grow small, over there, The potatoes they grow small And they plants 'em in the fall And they eats 'em tops and all, over there. Oh they churn their butter well, over there, Oh they churn their butter well, over there, Oh they churn their butter well And their buttermilk they sell And the rest I will not tell, over there. From Folk Songs of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Shellans Collected from John Vass, Hillsville, VA, 1959 See also The Famine Song (Praties They Grow Small) RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!